


A Favor for the Queen

by Redisaid



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Angst, Definitely not anything else, Don't worry it's not some terrible self insert, F/F, It's actually just a nameless hooker, Lot's of Sylvanas self-hatred going on, Prostitution, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 04:18:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15811188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redisaid/pseuds/Redisaid
Summary: Even the Dark Lady needs some company now and then. Sometimes, she doesn't get what she expects.





	A Favor for the Queen

**Author's Note:**

> This is all your fault, Rey.

She wasn’t nervous. She didn’t get nervous anymore. It had just...been a while. 

Despite the rumors, Sylvanas did not engage in this practice all that often. About those rumors, she’d have to have someone see to that. But for now, there was someone waiting for her in her rooms--someone she didn’t know and didn’t care to know. Someone she would not see again after tonight and likely hadn’t seen before tonight. And that was how the dark lady liked it. Anonymity. A beautiful stranger, preferably one that didn’t even try to speak to her, but it didn't always end up that way.

She would always have Nathanos arrange for it so she could keep her distance as much as possible. Honestly, once it got to this point, she just wanted things over with. A tremendous amount of emotions clouded her razor sharp mind, or they would have, were she capable of feeling them in their entirety. As it was, Sylvanas was reminded of vague echoes of excitement, embarrassment, and remorse mixed together. Though the feelings were barely present, she found herself both reveling in them and being annoyed by them at the same time. She was a queen who had to stoop to hiring courtesans to meet her needs, yet at the same time, she was an undead monstrosity, so of course she’d have to pay someone to sleep with her.

Oh well, it couldn’t be helped. The money had already changed hands, and she was already walking to her rooms. The time for second thoughts had long since passed. Sylvanas had a stranger to meet.

She found her waiting, seated on the bed. The first thing Sylvanas noted was her blonde hair. Nathanos usually sent brunettes. She didn't know why. They had never discussed any preferences beyond the basics of attractive, and most importantly living, elven women. Maybe he was trying to avoid stirring any memories of her former self, but it didn't matter. Hair was hair. That wasn't what she was hoping to enjoy most about this woman anyway.

But yes, a blonde Blood Elf woman of indiscernible age. You could never really tell. Her eyes were still a fel green, not yet purged of the Sunwell’s former demonic taint. She understood that it took longer for some than others for their eyes to change to gold. The rest of her features were a picture of her kind--lithe, elegant, and sharp. She wore a simple robe of black silk with hints of gold jewelry peeking out here and there. And best of all, she was quiet. She looked up, waiting to be addressed. She didn't embarrass herself with some contrived introduction. She didn't try to grovel at the feet of the Warchief. No, she waited, as she was supposed to.

Sylvanas offered her a nod. “I trust someone has gone over the rules with you and I do not need to repeat them.” 

“Yes, my lady,” the courtesan answered with well-practiced passivity. Her voice had just a hint of haughtiness to it. Of course it did. She was an elf, after all.

“Good,” Sylvanas replied. “You’ll wait here then.”

The next part was something Sylvanas insisted upon. It had to do with that old nagging shame that pretty much any Forsaken could sympathize with. If she were to be honest with herself, which she wasn't often, Sylvanas would have to admit she was still very vain. Even a corpse could still care about how it looked, let alone how it smelled. So bathing was essential, both for herself and for...well, herself again, for not having to imagine her partner’s disgust in her. She had gone through great lengths to ensure that this body of hers that she managed to repossess stayed in good shape. Measures both chemical and magical kept it that way. Still, a dip in rose-scented water never hurt anyone.

She asked the same of these women in terms of cleanliness, so it was only fair.

Sylvanas went to an adjoining chamber, shed her armor, and stepped into the warm bath that awaited her. This also had the positive effect of bringing the temperature of her skin up to something more lifelike. Honestly, she did a lot of things she probably shouldn't even care to do, but it was that old shame. She had existed this way for years now, but it still haunted her. No one would ever want what she was. No one would dream of her or desire her anymore. All she had left to compel people with was anger, fear, and pure spite. Intimacy was not something the unliving deserved, yet here it was, purchased with equal parts money and power, waiting for her in the next room, with a beating heart even.

She didn't linger in the bath. That would be rude. She could be rude if she wanted. Again, it didn't matter. Still, beneath the exterior of her artificially warmed flesh, somewhere within the banshee spirit that possessed this body, were the memories of a young ranger who fumbled through her first kisses while out on patrol in the pristine forests of Quel’thalas, centuries before she would die, then live again. There was still a part of her that was in awe of any beautiful woman she passed by, a part that remembered what it was like to want to be noticed, instead of commanding attention. Sylvanas Windrunner had once been a foolish girl who climbed ancient trees to impress a squadmate she had a crush on. She had once been an idiot who picked a bouquet of wildflowers for another crush that ended up being allergic to them. Her idea of a good romantic gesture had once been to offer to restring her commanding officer’s bow for her. That went very well, as one might imagine. Actually no, it didn’t.

It was the least she could do to show that she had learned a little more class and courtesy since those days, however long ago they might have been.

She dried herself off and donned the maroon robe that had been left next to the bath for her. It felt a bit forward to just walk in naked, after all. Again, it didn't really matter--they both knew why they were here--but to Sylvanas, it did. It always had.

Still, to leave a hint of hope that this woman might find her in any way attractive, and not just for the amount of coin the royal coffers could produce for her services, Sylvanas didn't tie the robe all that tightly, just enough to keep her breasts mostly covered and everything below them. If anything, it gave her the illusion of being seductive. That was enough.

She found that the woman had not moved when she re-entered the bedchamber. The courtesan was still stiffly perched on the edge of the bed. It honestly wouldn't have surprised Sylvanas if she saluted. She was in many way like the soldiers she briefed every day. Eyes up, alert, awaiting orders.

Sylvanas was very good at giving orders.

“Let’s see you then,” she commanded, beckoning the woman over to her with a subtle gesture.

The courtesan stood and walked over to her. There was no attempt at some sort of contrived sultry swagger in her steps. Sylvanas noted that she would have to thank Nathanos for finally finding someone who didn’t see the need for any of that usual bullshit. That was odd, though, as she found that he tended to choose the kind of women a man would choose--beautiful women with more breasts than dignity. Not that she didn’t find them interesting as well, for entirely different reasons, but this one had a sort of subtle confidence to her that had such an allure. 

Sylvanas almost wanted her to speak, but the woman stood quietly before her. A wide, even stance, like a warrior. Perhaps she had been, once. Maybe that was the reason for her silent resolve. She saw this as a battle to win. 

Sylvanas couldn’t blame her for it. She reached out and slid her index finger along the woman’s smooth jawline, coming to a stop beneath her chin, which Sylvanas pushed at, just barely, to force her to raise it. “Keep holding your head high. It suits you,” she told her.

“If it pleases you, my lady,” the courtesan responded with the same even coolness as before.

“That is what you’re here to do, isn’t it?” Sylvanas reminded her.

She slid her finger down over the woman’s chin and onto the soft skin of her throat, ever mindful of her nails. She didn’t want to scare the girl, yet. The rest of her fingers joined the other, brushing just over the woman’s jugular vein. Despite the courtesan’s outer calm, Sylvanas could feel the thrum of her heart beating quickly. Was she frightened or excited? Did it matter?

Not really. 

Her hand followed that pulse down to its source, brushing over shoulders, through silky hair, against a defined collarbone, stopping just above the curve of a breast to pluck at the fabric of the other woman’s robe. 

“Last chance for second thoughts,” Sylvanas reminded her as she rubbed the silk between her fingers.

“It would be if I had any, my lady,” the courtesan replied, voice still smooth, but heart beating harder than ever.

Sylvanas couldn’t help but smile at that show of confidence. She let go of the robe, and slipped her hand beneath it, briefly roving over the warm skin that lay hidden under the black silk. She wanted to elicit some kind of response, cause even a brief flinch of the other woman’s expectant green stare, but she didn’t. This girl was good. Only her heart betrayed her.

Sylvanas found her smile becoming a smirk. She withdrew her hand. She turned and walked toward the bed. “Come,” she said, beckoning again, “Let’s get comfortable then.”

This one might be too good at following the rules. Sylvanas would have to let her know that she still appreciated a little creativity now and then. Rules were meant to be interpreted, after all. Hers were simple, no kissing on the mouth, do as you’re told, leave when you’re asked to, and never speak of that night again to anyone. That was it. There was nothing about maintaining some sort of statuesque posture or cool rigidity. What she had moments ago found alluring was now becoming annoying. 

But Sylvanas was not one to back down from a challenge. 

She gestured for the woman to lie down first. She watched her like a hawk, leering as toned legs slipped out of the black silk robe and slid onto the sheets. Sylvanas waited for her to stop, still half-propped up on her elbows and waiting again, before joining her. Whereas she would normally slide in next to the other woman, Sylvanas cut to the chase and straddled her. 

That finally made those green eyes flicker with...something. Not fear. Not excitement. Not lust. Something else, but it was a reaction nonetheless.

Sylvanas’ smirk was back. Even simple victories such as these were always so rewarding. “Lie back,” she ordered. 

The courtesan obeyed, easing from her elbows and down onto the pillows at her back, but she objected, “I thought I was here to please you, my lady.”

“And it would please me if you would lie back, so do it,” Sylvanas told her. She watched and waited until the other woman’s body was flush with the pillows before adding, “That’s better.”

Since forwardness seemed to get a rise out of this one, she continued. Sylvanas slipped her hand under the tie of the other woman’s robe. She toyed with the silk for a moment. “Do they call you anything? Not your name, I don’t want that. Something else. You know. It’s usually a flower or a fabric or something equally as dull--Velvet, Rose, Diamond. Which are you?”

The green eyes darted away from her, looking around the room for an answer. “Not really.”

Sylvanas tugged a little harder at the knot, but not enough to make it slip. “Oh come now. It must embarrass you then? You with your little head held so high before the Dark Lady, embarrassed of the name they call you on the streets.”

“I’m not--” the girl seemed to remember herself. She looked back up, eyes cold again. “Fine. For tonight, for you, my lady, I can be Silk.”

“Only because you’re wearing it, I think,” Sylvanas teased. This was going well.

“It seems like I won’t be for long,” Silk replied.

“Smart girl,” Sylvanas praised as she slipped the knot of the tie. 

The robe let loose its hold on Silk’s body, but still pooled in all the most inconvenient places, revealing very little of her. Sylvanas took her time pushing the various pieces of fabric aside, admiring the smooth pink skin they revealed as if each patch of flesh was a work of art. In a way, it was. To someone constantly surrounded with decaying bodies, a living one was indeed art.

Silk didn’t waver again under her gaze. In fact, her determination to keep her head high seemed to be renewed. She watched Sylvanas as Sylvanas watched her. 

“Much better,” Sylvanas purred after she slipped Silk’s arms out of the sleeves for her, then swept the robe out from under her and off the bed. 

She watched Silk’s skin as it began to stand out in goosebumps. So it was cold in this room. Sylvanas couldn’t tell for herself. 

She leaned in, at first only breathing against Silk’s neck--breathing breaths she didn’t need to take, ones that her body sucked in reflexively still, ironically trying to keep her alive after all this time. She brushed her lips against that warm skin ever so slightly. This was usually the part where the girls that didn’t have the stomach for her would try to weasel out of it. It was all fun and games until the Banshee Queen put her lips on you. 

But Silk didn’t flinch. She didn’t try to run away, or laugh playfully and try to distract Sylvanas to make her escape. In fact, her hips rolled just slightly beneath her. Sylvanas might have also imagined it, but she thought she heard a little sigh escape the other woman’s lips.

Of all the things to happen tonight, that was the most surprising. 

But that didn’t stop her. Sylvanas teased her way down, barely touching, just opening her mouth slightly, enough to threaten a kiss or even a bite, but never delivering. She kept going, slowly, until she found a clavicle. Only then did she plant single frigid kiss there. 

Silk’s hips rolled again under her. This girl was good. She could pretend to want an undead. She shouldn’t be doing this kind of work. The elves of Silvermoon still had culture. She could be keeping her clothes on in a play with as good an actress as she was.

But enough of that, Sylvanas would let herself be convinced. In the privacy of these chambers, it was fun to pretend. 

“My, my,” she cooed, leaning back again. “Someone’s eager.”

Silk’s eyes were trained on her again. They studied her for just a moment before she responded, “For you, my lady.”

She was back on the script again. Oh well. Sylvanas still had plenty of time to wear her down. In fact, she planned on it. “Well then, care to show me?” she asked, leaning back some more, purposely sticking out her chest. 

Silk propped herself back up, following Sylvanas’ lead with seeming eagerness, as advertised. She kept hold of her gaze, and after just a moment’s hesitation, delicately trailed her fingers along the strip of exposed flesh between Sylvanas’ breasts. 

Sylvanas tried not to think about the things she knew to be true. She knew that flesh was cold and dead. She knew that it didn’t offer any sort of response, as one might expect. No shivers wracked her, no goosebumps followed after the touch. She instead focused on what she wanted to know. Silk’s hand was warm. She could feel that much. It felt nice to be touched.

Silk did not ask for permission. That wasn’t part of the rules, after all. She only had to do as she was told, and well, she was following that rule. She trailed down to where the tie of Sylvanas’ robe lay in a loose knot and pulled at it. It didn’t take much effort to undo it. The robe fell open, still covering her breasts, but exposing the rest of the center of her body. Pallid skin, long devoid of blood. Shapes and curves carefully reconstructed to be something like they once were. 

But there was no hesitation, no snort of disgust. Silk merely sat up fully, leaving both hands free to find their way beneath the robe, to trace their way up from hips to shoulders and slide the garment free. 

What was she kidding? It felt amazing to be touched. And to be touched by the hands of a beautiful woman? What did it matter how or why? Sylvanas shouldn’t care, but she did, but she was also starting to forget that she did.

She almost forgot enough to revel in the hot breath against her abdomen. Silk began to kiss her way up, ever so gently, but with a hint of hunger. She was careful, yes, but enthusiastic, maybe? 

Enough. It was time to enjoy what she paid for. There would be no more of this doubt. No more shame. 

Sylvanas watched as Silk visited every speck of skin on her chest and abdomen, cautiously not linger too long near her breasts. She worked well, efficiently even, leaving no part completely unexplored, but never focusing on just one. Silk’s lips grew pinker as she went, naturally so, since she left no trail of lipstick behind. It gave Sylvanas an idea. 

“I think I know where I want those lips of yours,” she found herself saying. It came out with a little bit more sigh behind it than she intended. Oh well, let the girl know she was doing well. It couldn’t hurt.

“I might have a guess as well,” Silk murmured against her, forgetting the ‘my lady’ this time. She didn’t seem to notice, though, as she kept at her assault.

“But I think that this might not be the place for it,” Sylvanas told her. She snaked a hand into Silk’s blonde tresses and directed her to pull away with a gentle tug. “Be a dear and follow me again.”

Sylvanas let go of the girl and rolled off her in on smooth motion. Silk followed, as ordered, and stood beside her. Sylvanas motioned to a door. Not the one she had disappeared behind for her bath before, but another door. She led Silk through it and into a dark and disused audience chamber. 

And up to a chair on the dais. You might call it a throne. Sylvanas had many seats that would be more throne-like than this one. This was just a nice antique from old Lordaeron. Dark wood, carved intricately. Purple velvet upholstery, very regal but also just a little bit gaudy. It was just a little too much. Perfect for what she had in mind. 

She sat in it, catching a sliver of moonlight as she did. The sliver came in from the one set of curtains in the room that wasn’t shut completely. It was the only light. No trouble for her, but for her living companion for that evening, maybe. 

“Well then? Were you going to continue?” Sylvanas asked.

Fel green eyes looked on unblinking from the darkness. Silk stepped up into the sliver of pale light. A little smile actually graced her lips. She said absolutely nothing as she walked up to the throne and straddled Sylvanas, sitting right in her lap without pause. Now it was her breath on Sylvanas neck, teasing at kisses or bites or something else. It was her teeth grazing the length of an elven ear. It was her hands, one wrapping around the queen’s back to stabilize herself, the other, hot against Sylvanas’ cold and roaming slowly downward.

Well, she was definitely good at doing what she was told.

So good that Sylvanas couldn’t help but let a moan escape her lips. It almost surprised her. Almost.

Silk traced one finger dangerously close to Sylvanas’ center and asked, “Was this what you had in mind, my lady?”

Sylvanas still had enough composure to answer, “I said your lips, not your hands.”

She almost expected a little resistance. She wouldn’t have minded it either, but Sylvanas would never admit to that. 

Silk let out what might have been a little laugh, maybe something else, but she climbed off the queen all the same. She slid down, between her thighs, kneeling before the throne. With her hand tracing idle patterns on Sylvanas legs, she asked, “How about now?”

“Much better,” Sylvanas told her. “Much better.”

Silk took that as her cue to get to work. She spread Sylvanas legs wider apart to make more room for herself, then kissed her way along her inner thighs. Back and forth, up and down, close, but not where Sylvanas needed her to be. Not yet. 

Sylvanas sighed, content to wait and enjoy this treatment for now. She liked this one. It was a pity that she wouldn’t be able to have her again, but that was a rule she made for herself. She wouldn’t be showing anyone any favoritism. She had enough to worry about during the day, a Horde of wretches and monsters to lead. She didn’t need to be caught up in politics again at night. So that was her rule, each time a different one. Another beautiful stranger.

Silk didn’t ask for permission. She didn’t need to, and Sylvanas loved that she didn’t. She surprised her with more teasing, but this time where it was very sorely needed. More hot breath, just a hint of warm tongue, then gone again. Then back, a little more now, then gone. Then back again, hot and hard.

Hard enough to coax out another moan.

And so she continued, eventually staying put. Silk was well-versed in such acts, of that Sylvanas was certain. Even her deadened nerves were on fire with this treatment. Each time she felt as if it was getting to be too much, the courtesan would back off, slowly, gently, until she wanted more--until her hips bucked and her reclaimed body begged for attention again. 

It wouldn’t last long. They were getting to the part that Sylvanas found herself dreading. As much as her release was the goal of this endeavor, it was always a mixed bag of pain and pleasure. Sure, it felt good, but at the same time, the bond that held her to this body seemed to reject the feeling. Any time it happened, she felt as if she would be expelled from this corpse, back to being an incorporeal banshee. She was not meant to feel this. This feeling was a celebration of the living, and she was dead. 

She tensed up, just wanting it over with, but a hand reached out for hers and held it. Nothing was said. Silk’s mouth was still too busy for that, but she squeezed Sylvanas’ hand as if to say that somehow, she understood. It was okay. She would be fine. She was always fine. It never happened, no matter how much she fear it, no matter how much she felt that rejection. It wasn’t real. It was just the two of them, alone in the moonlight, enjoying one another.

Sylvanas let out a shuddering sigh. A mellow wave of pleasure rolled over her, nothing fast or fierce or angry. It was slow and mild and absolutely perfect. Silk did her best to keep it going, but didn’t let go of her hand, even as Sylvanas was sure her nails might have dug a little too much into the yielding flesh beneath them. Oh well, it was for a good cause, well, at least in her opinion. A very good one. Stellar. Excellent. Whatever Nathanos had paid for her was probably not enough and would never be enough.

When Sylvanas opened her eyes, she found green ones looking back up at her. They probably hadn’t ever looked down. Good. It suited her. As Sylvanas pushed her away, she wanted to offer some sort of praise, to let this woman know just exactly how she had guided her past her own self-hate and to some place where she could just accept the pleasure she was being given. Instead, that little idiot ranger who didn’t know how to talk to women yet spoke up and purred, “You are very good at your job.”

Silk smiled. “I try my best.”

Sylvanas tried to shake some of the haze out of her mind to think of a way to save her response and make it more meaningful. “You do more than try. Consider my expectations exceeded.”

Silk leaned her head against Sylvanas’ thigh. Her gold earrings were cold dots against warm flesh and soft hair. “Already? But we have all night.”

So they did. Sylvanas didn’t need to sleep. Silk did, but a woman of her profession was likely used to sleeping during the day instead. 

That meant that Sylvanas had plenty of time to express her appreciation. She smiled to herself at the thought. Yes, that would be better than trying to think of something to say. 

“Then stand up,” she ordered.

Silk stood. Sylvanas took her hand, the one that had just steadied her through her climax, and pulled Silk onto her lap. 

“My lady, I thought--” Silk began to object.

Sylvanas cut her off, “You thought you were here for my pleasure? Well, you are, so let me have my pleasure then.”

Sylvanas wound the warm body around hers. She held tight to Silk’s hips with one arm, then got straight to the point with the other. 

The doubt returned to her mind, telling her that this girl didn’t want this. She would take payment to touch an undead, sure, but to be touched by one? No. No one would want that.

And yet, Sylvanas’ fingers came away wet. In the absence of her touch, Silk shuddered and let out a little whine. Just a soft sound, right next to Sylvanas’ ear. A real sound. One of wanting. 

Who was this woman? How could she possibly find an abomination attractive? How could she want her still?

Sylvanas didn’t want to know the answers to these questions. She didn’t want to ask them anymore. She wanted to enjoy this. She wanted to be wanted. She wanted to make someone else feel for a change.

So she brought her fingers back. She touched softly and tenuously, as she did when she was first discovering the joys of other women back in the then unspoiled forests. She explored Silk cautiously, not daring to hurt her, but probably just giving her enough of what she needed and no more than that. Still, it was wonderful. She had forgotten what it was like to feel the little exhales of pleasure against her neck--to learn the exact places on another woman’s body that made those happen more frequently. She had forgotten how good it was to listen to those sighs become ragged, then turn into moans. Silk kept her dignity. She didn’t say stupid things or mouth any names, but she did well to let Sylvanas know how she felt without words. 

Her heart was thundering against Sylvanas, beating louder than the drums of war. Her breaths were coming fast between her teeth, interrupted at times by sounds Sylvanas hadn’t heard in far too long. Like an old forgotten song, she rejoiced in hearing them again. Music to the ears.

And then the body she held on her lap began to tense. A familiar course of actions was set in motion. She watched Silk fall apart against her, coming undone with a long, but somewhat muted moan.

It was a few more moments before those green eyes were upon her again. 

“Exquisite,” Sylvanas praised once she knew she had her full attention.

She couldn’t tell in the dark, but if Sylvanas had to guess, a blush spoke instead of Silk’s silence. Funny, to blush now, after all they had already done.

She let go, signalling Silk to stand, then joined her. Sylvanas lead her back out of the audience chamber and into the bedroom. She motioned for Silk to sit on the bed again, and went to find a decanter of wine she kept for visits like these. They did have all night, after all. Best she treat her guest well.

Silk watched her as she searched for a goblet to pour the wine into. Just one. Sylvanas herself had no need to drink. She could, but why? What point did it serve? Most food and drink was as good as ash in her mouth. Let it be enjoyed by those who could enjoy it. 

Those green eyes finally relented as Sylvanas began to pour the wine. Silk made herself comfortable on the bed, lying back on the pillows again. A contented hum sounded from her direction. Then another. And another. Different notes. A song. Almost just scales, but then a melody. 

A song Sylvanas recognized. A song of a people who had fallen. A song for those of them who had gotten back up. A song for Quel’thalas, for the place that was once her home. A song she herself had sung, in times when her memories of that place, of those times past, were strong enough to cloud the sharp clarity of mind that her undeath usually granted her.

She almost spilled the wine. It took a great measure of control to set the decanter back down gently, then turn slowly to the woman who dared to sing that song in front of her.

“Where did you hear that?” Sylvanas asked. A little too much edge found itself into that question. 

Enough to make Silk stop humming immediately. She sat up, then looked up at Sylvanas, head held high. “From someone I used to know, someone I once looked up to a great deal.”

All at once, Sylvanas noticed things she hadn’t before. Her mind replayed the last hour, recalling calluses on Silk’s hands, not the softness she was expecting. Her eyes finally seemed to notice the definition in her arms and shoulders. She’d seen that many times before, on other rangers. 

“You realize that now you’ll have to tell me your name,” Sylvanas commanded.

“It didn’t matter before,” Silk objected, her gaze still unbroken.

“You’ve made it very clear that it matters now,” Sylvanas warned.

“You didn’t know it back then, if it makes you feel any better,” Silk told her. “I was just another young recruit. You were the Ranger General. You didn’t need to know my name.”

How many like her were left? How many of those faces that she had once looked upon, seemingly innumerable, as they looked to her for guidance? How many of them were gone now? How many of them were nothing but bones in the Dead Scar? How many had been raised alongside her as banshees? How many of them had survived to follow Kael’thas and serve under Illidan, only to die in the ruins of Outland? 

There could only be a few that remained. All those faces. All of those eager eyes that followed her wherever she went, that adored her as she had once adored the women came before her. All that was left of them, all that could be left of them was just a handful. And she couldn’t even be bothered to recognize one of them? To know her name?

What a fool she was.

“I wanted to see if you were still something like that person, if you were the Sylvanas Windrunner I remembered,” Silk went on. “I don’t know who you are anymore, or who I am. I...I didn’t find what I expected.”

“What did you expect to find?” Sylvanas had to ask.

“I thought I might feel better if you were the cold-hearted witch they say you are. I thought I might be able to forget how I used to feel about you, even if you had no idea that I existed,” Silk told her. She got up, sensing that she had ruined whatever the rest of the night might have brought them, and began searching for her robe.

“Then what am I?” Sylvanas asked as she watched the woman don the black garment hastily.

Silk looked up. “Something in-between,” she answered.

That was far too close to the truth.

Sylvanas held her gaze for a long moment, then said finally, “Al diel shala, ranger.”

Silk nodded. “Al diel shala.” 

She showed herself out.

In the morning, Nathanos would ask her if she enjoyed her company for the evening. Sylvanas would lie and tell him that she was a little surprised by his choice, but pleasantly so. He would ask her why she found Velvet so surprising. Nathanos would describe her briefly, ebony hair, buxom, with a preference for black lipstick. She wouldn’t mention to him that Velvet never made it to her that night. The less he knew the better. 

She certainly wouldn’t mention to him that she had another trusted advisor pulling records for her on the surviving rangers of Silvermoon that had enlisted prior to the Scourge invasion. No, he definitely didn’t need to know that.


End file.
